


The Sun, The Moon, and The Goddamn Stars

by spaceprincessem



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Demon Stiles, Derek Hale is a Nice Thing, Happy Ending, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Stiles, M/M, Stiles Stilinksi Deserves Nice Things, soft derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:28:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27466435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceprincessem/pseuds/spaceprincessem
Summary: “We saved the best secret for last.” The demon’s voice was low, quiet. “And Stiles is really fighting to make sure this one isn’t said out loud.”“Stiles,” it came out in a strangled voice, more broken, more pleading than he meant it to, “Stiles, you can fight this.”Maybe Stiles could hear him, maybe he could fight it. They just needed a few more minutes, a dozen more seconds before Deaton arrived. Maybe Derek could help Stiles keep this one, last little piece locked away before the demon ripped it from him forever.
Relationships: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 19
Kudos: 585
Collections: Sterek Goodness





	The Sun, The Moon, and The Goddamn Stars

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this forever ago except for the end, which I finally was able to bring myself to do. Not super happy with it, but like here it is anyway!

Derek felt his jaw trembling in anger. He should have known. He should have fucking know from the moment it happened. He should have trusted that small tugging at the bottom of his spine, the nagging feeling pulling at his heart strings, the twisting in his gut that warned him that something,  _ something _ was wrong. Why hadn’t he looked longer? Harder? If he had he would have noticed the tightness at the corner of his lips when he smiled. The carefulness when he walked across the loft floor, the bounce in his step more controlled. If he had inhaled deeper he could have picked up the souring stench that lingered behind the sweetness of warm cinnamon. 

Derek had just let it all go because they were  _ tired _ . It had been one supernatural incident right after another and they were barely getting a few hours of sleep in favor of keeping the town safe. So, when the break came, it was a blessing, and Derek wanted to ignore the signs, blame them on the overwhelming exhaustion because surely, something else can’t have gone wrong less than a day after their most recent fight. 

But that had been a mistake. A big one.

He should have known a week ago that the smile he had received in response to his question,  _ “Are you okay? _ ” was not the real Stiles. Because Derek liked to think he knew Stiles almost better than anyone and he should have known. But he, like the rest of the pack, had once again let Stiles down. And now he was angry. Angry at the pack for letting it go on for so long. Angry at the demon for choosing Stiles. Angry at himself for letting it happen.

Stiles was once again trapped inside his own mind while the demon had walked around, doing whatever it was that demons did when they possessed a human body. The only reason Derek had caught it was because the demon had slipped up. It had done something so very  _ not Stiles _ that Derek had done a double take and when he scented the air, listened for the heartbeat, he knew something was very wrong. After he knocked Stiles out and called the pack over to solve the problem Derek vomited in the bathroom because he had failed. And now Stiles would pay the price.

“I suppose the ruse is up.” Stiles’ voice - low, controlled, dangerous, so very unlike him - said as he slowly got to his feet. His dark eyes wandered around, taking in every member of the pack for a moment, like he was sizing them up carefully. “Took you long enough.”

Derek just growled, righteous fury burning through his veins, eyes flashing red as the demon turned, cocking his head at him. A smirk curled against his lips, but he remained rooted to his spot. He was trapped in a spell circle hastily created with red paint in the middle of the loft. They were just waiting on Deaton now, who had run to find a book that would purge the demon from Stiles’ mind.

“Hey,” the demon said as he held up his hands, smirk growing wider, “don’t get mad at me. This is your human and it took you a  _ week _ to notice my residence. So, really, who’s to blame here?”

The smell in the air soured with shame and embarrassment, eyes darting to the ground, no one denying that the demon was wrong. It could have been longer, Derek told himself, because at this point it was really the only consultation that he could offer any of them. It could have been longer. It could have been worse. The demon cracked its knuckles looking too much at ease for a creature that was about to be sent back to hell. 

“I’ve had a lot of fun,” the demon said as it rolled its shoulders, “really got to know dear old Stiles. His mind is like an open book, but only because something else has been here before.”

A low growl reverberated in Derek’s chest, one echoed by the rest of the wolves in the pack.

The demon waved them away, “But I don’t want to talk about that.”

Erica laughed. “Bold of you to assume we were going to let you talk at all.” 

She jerked her head in Jackson’s direction, a roll of duct tape held lofilty in his hand. The demon only tilted its head to the side curiously, the smile still bright and pleasant as he regarded Jackson.

“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary.” The demon said after a moment. “I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen.”

“Not a chance.” Derek said through gritted teeth. 

He hated the idea of restraining Stiles, but he knew no good would come of letting the demon ramble about things Stiles would rather keep private. Who knew the kind of secrets that could spill out. It was a necessary evil to silence him, but one he was hoping Stiles would be thankful for later. Derek nodded his head towards Jackson and the beta took a step forward, pulling a long strand of tape from the roll.

“Ah, ah, ah!” The demon said, backing up as much as it could before holding up its left arm, the fingers of its right hand wrapping around the delicate skin of his wrist. “You may not be able to hurt Stiles, but I can.”

Derek’s cry of protest died on his lips as a sickening cracking sound echoed throughout the loft, followed by a pained howl that nearly ripped Derek’s heart from his chest. Stiles fell to his knees, grabbing at his now broken wrist and Derek was overwhelmed by the rush of emotions rolling off of the boy. Pain, exhaustion, fear, anxiety, sorrow all crashing like waves against the shore, choking Derek, making him gasp for breath. As quickly as it came it was suddenly gone, like a rubber band that had been stretched too far snapping back into place. The sob spilling from Stiles’ lips silenced and the demon straightened back up, grinning.

“Should I break something else?” It asked, waiting for Jackson to take another step forward.

Jackson hastily retreated, a look of horror on his face, which was reflected in the rest of the pack.

“No?” It cocked an eyebrow, grin growing impossible wider. “Good, I’m not big on physical torture,” the demon said as it dropped its hands to its side, “I like my pain derived from more of a mental place.”

“He can talk, but we don’t have to listen.” Lydia said, bright red lips tight as she glared at the demon.

The demon’s eyes snapped to her immediately. “Ah, Lydia Martin. The girl who we’ve been in love with forever,” it said, causing everyone in the room to freeze, “well, not forever cause we’ve moved on, but really it took Scott turning into a werewolf for you to even notice us? Lydia Martin who was too cool, too popular, only dating the rich assholes,” he indicated his head towards Jackson, “because the status quo was more important than substance.”

“Shut up.” Jackson snarled at the same time Lydia said, “Stop it.”

The demon just held up his hands in surrender, “Stiles’ thoughts, not mine.”

“You’re lying.” Lydia said, taking a small step back.

The demon rolled his eyes. “Come on Lydia, you turned us down every chance you got, treating us like we were dirt beneath your overly priced high heeled shoes and you didn’t think we’d be bitter over it?”

Derek had never seen Lydia look so upset, her cheeks a splotchy red as she looked away from the demon.

“Leave her alone.” Scott said as he came to Lydia’s aid, but Derek knew that had been a mistake.

The demon’s smile was malicious now as it eyed Scott hungrily. “Oh, the best friend is going to give his opinion now, huh?”

Scott flinched at the harshness, but didn’t back down.

“Hmm,” The demon said, placing its hand against its chin in mock thought, “let’s see Scotty, how does Stiles really feel about you? Maybe you should ask him about all the times you ditched him for Allison, because Allison is so amazing and beautiful and perfect.” He drew out all of the words, sarcasm dripping from every syllable before he turned and offered the brunette girl a wink.

Allison ignored the demon, her wide and sad eyes finding Scott for a moment.

“He was jealous, you know, when you got bitten.” The demon continued, “Scott McCall went from loser extraordinaire to hot all star, lacrosse captain, hanging with the popular crowd, leaving his best friend in the dust, least loved by everyone.”

“That’s not true.” Scott said, his voice small, hands clenched into tight fists.

“Please,” the demon said as he turned to the room at large, “you’re all thinking it because Stiles is  _ definitely _ thinking it. Who would want to date spastic, loud mouthed, weak, pathetic, human Stiles?”

Derek could feel a shift in the air and he shuffled uncomfortably on his feet. He could still feel his anger white hot and burning, but knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. His eyes darted down to Stiles’ wrist, which was bent oddly, turning a dark shade of purple and beginning to swell terribly. Bile was rising up the back of his throat, but he pushed it down. Scott and Lydia had already been baited and he wanted to stay as far away from the demon’s thoughts as possible. This is what he had been afraid of. The demon was twisting all of Stiles’ most private thoughts and feelings, laying them out for everyone to hear against his will.

“I mean look at all of you,” the demon continued gesturing to the pack, “no wonder he feels so inadequate. You’re all drop dead gorgeous and then there’s skinny, pale, gangly, clumsy Stiles who's trying so hard to run with wolves.”

Derek closed his eyes, taking in a shuddering breath. It pained him to know what Stiles thought of himself. Didn’t he realize how beautiful he was? Moonlight skin, dotted with a constellation of moles, bright amber eyes that looked gold in the morning sunlight. If only Stiles knew what the curl of his lips did to Derek, the slightest brush of his slender fingers against his shoulder sending a chill down the wolf’s spine. 

“And who can stand to listen to us talk  _ all the time _ ?” The demon asked, causing Derek to snap his eyes open. “Clearly none of you.”

Derek felt the air grow heavy with guilt, pained looks crossing over all of their faces. The demon laughed, the sound causing the windows to vibrate unpleasantly.

“How many times have we been right,” The demon asked, tongue darting out to lick its lips, “and no one believed us? We plan, and we research, and we bust our ass, but no one wants to listen or take anything we say seriously.”

No one dared contradict the demon, jaws clenching in anger, teeth snapping, low hisses piercing the tension that was hot and thick in the room. But no one contradicted the words coming out of its dark mouth. And the demon only smirked harder. Because it knew. It  _ fucking _ knew.

“Your silence is telling.” It chuckled. “Is that why everyone paired off already?” The demon gestured to all of the couples in the room with its bad hand, the bones cracking loudly.

“Stop.” Erica pleaded, her eyes filling with tears.

The demon didn’t even acknowledge her cry as his eyes swept over the pack again and again and again, like it wanted to make sure they all heard its words. “So no one would have to be left with Stiles?” The demon quipped an eyebrow, “Or, well, that’s what he thinks anyway.”

“I can’t stand to this anymore.” Lydia murmured, her arms wrapping around herself. “I need to leave.”

She started to walk away, red hair flying over her shoulder, shoving past Isaac and Jackson. The other wolves shifted, their gaze turning to Derek, asking if they could do the same.

“But you’re going to miss the best part!” The demon sang, standing on its tiptoes as if it would give a better view of the girl retreating to the loft door. 

Lydia froze, hand on the door, and Derek could see a viciously hungry look in its dark eyes as it slowly turned so it was facing the alpha. Derek subconsciously took a step back because he was afraid. Everything, everything the demon had been saying up to this point was like a punch to the gut, but now,  _ now _ it looked like it was going for the kill. Lips curled up in the corners wickedly.

“We saved the best secret for last.” The demon’s voice was low, quiet. “And Stiles is really fighting to make sure this one isn’t said out loud.” 

“Stiles,” it came out in a strangled voice, more broken, more pleading than he meant it to, “Stiles, you can fight this.”

Maybe Stiles could hear him, maybe he could fight it. They just needed a few more minutes, a dozen more seconds before Deaton arrived. Maybe Derek could help Stiles keep this one, last little piece locked away before the demon ripped it from him forever.

“Aww,” the demon cooed, “do you hear that, Stiles? He’s begging now,” how could its smile grow that much wider, “maybe he loves you too.”

Derek froze. 

No. 

No, no, no, no,  _ no _ . 

This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fucking  _ fair _ . It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. For one, agonizing moment, the demon let Stiles slip through, and Derek could see the utter horror and anguish on his face, doe brown eyes wet with tears. And Derek felt his heart fucking  _ shatter _ . Because that was the look of a boy who had everything ripped from him, who thought he wasn’t desired or deserved to be loved. That was Stiles being terrified that Derek was going to reject him, shove him away, lose whatever this, this  _ thing _ was between the two of them. Derek wanted to reach out, to reassure him that it was okay, it was  _ okay _ , because…

_ Because what, Derek? _

But he didn’t get to linger on that thought because the demon was back, a smile that was all teeth and when he thought it couldn’t sink lower the demon continued like he hadn’t just dropped the biggest bomb in the world on the Alpha.

“We’ve been in love with you for some time,” the demon batted its eyes, teeth biting down on its lower lip, “but we’re too afraid to tell the truth. Out of all the people in the world how could Derek Hale love us in return?”

“Shut up.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them, but he didn’t want to listen anymore. 

He couldn’t. Not when his own emotions were swirling around him dangerously, like a hurricane forming over the ocean, destined for death and destruction. He had never thought it could be possible to love and to be loved again, not after Kate or Jennifer, not after he had lost his family in the flames caused by his mistakes. All of those wants, those desires, those feelings for Stiles that had just been bubbling at the surface, until they had nestled down deep into Derek’s core were something he only dared think about in the quiet moments when he thought the universe wasn’t listening. Because, really, the universe had a way of taking away the things he cared about the most.

“Not good enough,” the demon continued, “never good enough for Derek Hale.”

Blood pooled in Derek’s palms, dripping quietly to the floor. That wasn’t true. That wasn’t true at all. If anything Derek felt like  _ he _ could never be good enough for Stiles. Stiles was the sun, bright, warm, shining his light over everyone, always making them smile, always there to chase away the darkness. He was smart,  _ so smart _ , and Derek did listen when he talked because he had grown to love the constant stream of noise. Stiles never pretended to be something he wasn’t, wearing his heart on his sleeve, and maybe if Derek hadn’t tried to keep him away, keep him safe, he would have picked up the subtleties that hinted at something more.

The door to the loft rolled open and all eyes turned in that direction, Deaton marching across the space with a book tucked under his arm.

“The druid has returned.” The demon said as he gave Deaton a weirdly polite smile. “This is where I take my leave.” He faced the rest of the pack again, eyes resting on Derek. “It’s been a real treat, although I should mention how painful this next bit is going to be for Stiles.”

Derek looked at Deaton, but the druid only grimaced in response, nodding his head quietly to confirm that the demon was correct.

The demon laughed. “I gain nothing by lying,” it said as it shrugged its shoulders, “besides I can see it in all of your faces. The damage has been done.”

“Just - get it out of him.” Scott muttered and Derek swore he saw a tear escape down his tanned face.

The exorcism was excruciating to watch, and even more so to feel as all of Stiles’ pain leached into the air, making it heavy and thick. Derek felt like he was choking. Some of the pack couldn’t stand it, escaping to the balcony as Stiles writhed, screamed, and purged in the middle of the loft. When it was done and the only thing cutting through the silence was laboring breathing and a small whimper that nearly tore Derek in half. Everyone was back in the loft now, looking down at Stiles, who was on his hands and knees, eyes on the floor. For a long while no one moved nor spoke.

Finally, Stiles asked, “Is it gone?”

“Yes,” Deaton answered as he closed the book, setting it down on the coffee table.

Stiles slowly sat back on his heels, fingers clenching the fabric of his jeans. He was shaking and there was no mistaking the hot tears spilling over his cheeks. But no one moved to comfort him. No one moved to take him in their arms and tell him it would be okay. They all just stared, faces flicking between guilt, pain, and shame. Even Derek felt frozen in place. He knew he should have done something,  _ anything _ , to prove that what the demon said was false. That they did care, they did love him. But he couldn’t move. He couldn’t fucking move and the worst part of it all was that Stiles noticed. He noticed the pack hovering on the edge, either too afraid or something else to just reach out a hand to help him up.

It wasn’t until Deaton,  _ fucking Deaton _ , moved forward, placing a gentle hand on Stiles’ shoulder that the spell had broke. 

“Come on, Stiles,” Deaton said in a calm, reassured voice, “I can take you home.”

It was then the pack surged forward, but it was too late, much too late.

“Don’t.” Stiles said as he climbed to his feet. “Just don’t.” 

It was broken, so broken and when Derek caught Stiles eyes just for a moment, he realized how right the demon was. The damage was already done and Derek was terrified they’d never be able to fix it.

* * *

It was agreed that they would give Stiles space, because that’s what he needed. The pack had failed him in more ways than one and Derek wouldn’t blame Stiles if he never wanted to see any of them again. It was miserable without him. The betas were at each other’s throats all the time, their run in with a rouge witch was an absolute disaster, the loft was quiet, too fucking quiet as they all just in their guilt and hurt feelings. 

Which was complete and utter  _ bullshit _ .

Stiles had been the one that was possessed. Stiles had been the one whose most private thoughts and feelings had been twisted to inflict the most damage. Stiles had been the one to suffer. Stiles had been the hurt one.

And they all sat around licking their wounds like they had any right to feel hurt and betrayed. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all. So Derek plucked up his goddamn courage and did what he should have done days, weeks,  _ months _ ago.

“I love you too.”

He couldn’t tell if Stiles’ rapid increase in heart rate was from the words that had just come out of his mouth or the fact that Derek had slipped through his window unannounced. Stiles was plastered against his bedroom door, eyes wide, chest heaving as he stared at Derek.

“I-” Stiles began before stopping, taking a deep breath, “wait, dude,  _ what _ ?!”

But Derek couldn’t stop now. He was a man on a mission and whether that ended in his demise or not, well, then at least Stiles would know the truth.

“The demon,” Derek said, taking a step forward, “that  _ thing _ ,” he spat, “was wrong. Because I love you too.”

Then there was silence. Derek could feel it curling in the air, Stiles bracing himself for another blow, another hit that would break him. His wolf began to whine, a deep ache in his chest, because he could never -  _ would never _ \- hurt Stiles that way.

“Derek,” Stiles finally said after too long of a moment, “you don’t have to make me feel better by lying to me.”

Derek shook his head, knowing those words were coming, but he had learned long ago to prepare his defenses.

“The truth is,” Derek said, voice low and soft, “I’m not good enough for you and that terrified me. Because I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Stiles.”

“I know what that demon said,” Stiles cut in quickly, “I saw the looks on everyone’s faces.”

“We failed you, Stiles,” Derek said as he reached in the space between them, his eyes falling to where Stiles’ wrist was still bandaged up from what the demon did, “and the pack is ashamed for making you think, making you believe that we didn’t care about you in return.”

“You’re probably better off without me.” Stiles mumbles as he wrapped his arms around his middle, winching slightly as he bent his hurt wrist the wrong way.

Derek gently pressed his fingers against Stiles’ arm, cool skin vibrating with heat as Derek began to pull away his pain. He then brought Stiles’ hand up to his chest, placing it over the steady rhythm of his heart.

“There is no pack without you.” Derek whispered, grey-green meeting those amber gold caught perfectly in the fading sunlight. “If only you could see the way I saw you.”

He watched as Stiles licked his lips, knowing there was no skip in his heart, knowing that Stiles could feel it too.

“Tell me.” Stiles’ voice was so small that Derek almost didn’t hear it. 

Derek gave him a soft smile as he brought Stiles’ fingers to his lips, kissing them softly. “You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. You’re so full of life, radiating like you’re the sun, bright and full of warmth. You breathed life back into me. You helped save me.” He cupped Stiles’ face with one hand, thumb brushing against his skin. “But you’re also the moon, keeping me anchored, calling me home. And I would follow you anywhere, even if it meant I wasn’t coming back I would follow you.”

Stiles closed his eyes, tears spilling onto Derek’s hand, but it only made Derek move closer.

“You’re the sun, the moon, and the goddamn stars.” Derek said. “And if I have to tell you that everyday until you believe it then I will, I will because I love you too and I don’t deserve it but I don’t-”

He was cut off as Stiles pressed his lips against Derek’s. It was messy and a little bittersweet, but Derek could still taste the warmth of cinnamon before Stiles pulled away. 

“The sun, the moon, and the goddamn stars, huh?” Stiles asked, voice shaky, but he was quipping an eyebrow and there was a hint of his cockiness there.

Derek grinned. “The sun, the moon, and the goddamn stars.” He said before he kissed Stiles again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Heh. Okay thanks for reading this far and i hope it was somewhat enjoyable 🥴 anyway comments and kudos give me life so they are most appreciated if you wanna leave them!


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